Some Things Can't Be Forgiven
by LaVendettaDellaFarfalla
Summary: Not long after their performance of Born This Way, all the member of New Directions apart from Santana are the victims of a vicious hate crime. Please make sure to read the warnings.


_**Fill for a prompt over at the angst meme: **__Not long after singing Born This Way, all the members of ND except Santana were the victims of a vicious hate crime (or school shooting with similar motivations). All of them were either killed or badly wounded, and the real stinger for her is that she never participated in their last group number. However, she did tape at least half the performance on her phone._

_She watches it on repeat for weeks. Blaine eventually approaches her, the only one of Kurt's friends who is not dead or in a coma, and they watch it together. Soon after, she posts it on the net and it goes viral, letting the world see the group of bright, brave young people who were victims of prejudice. To the world, they are tragic heroes, who died for the right to be themselves. To Blaine and Santana, they are the people they loved, and let die._

_**Warnings**__: As you've probably guessed from reading the prompt, this is not a very pleasant fic. It contains descriptions of a school-shooting, which may upset some readers. Also, there is some strong language._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Glee. Never have, never will._

_**Authors note: **__There will be at least one more chapter after this one. The fic itself is pretty much finished, but it will take some time to tighten it all up. I have exams for the next few weeks, so it may be delayed. Blaine turns up in the next chapter._

xxx

Santana wishes she hadn't been such a stubborn bitch before they did _Born This Way_. She wishes she had gone up there with the rest of them, Lebanese T-shirt and all, and thrown herself into their performance. She wishes she had sung and danced her little heart out. She wishes, oh god she wishes.

It's too late, though. Santana Lopez is never going to sing with the people she loves again.

xxx

The day _it _happens, she's still wearing the shirt Brittany made for her under her sweater. She doesn't even know why. It just reminds her of Britt, and feels comforting against her skin, although it's a reminder of her biggest secret.

They're in the auditorium. It's that relaxed, chatty period between the end of school and the start of a glee meeting. They're all hanging out on the stage, talking to each other, laughing, harping on about what they're going to do at the weekend. All except for Santana, that is. She sits in the middle of the empty chairs meant for the audience. This seems to be a recurring theme: Santana sitting by herself, watching the others enjoy themselves. Of course, she only has herself to blame for that.

That's when it happens. There's no change in the air, no warning of what's to come. It just _happens._

Kurt's the first to go. One second he's laughing with Tina and Mercedes about something, stepping down from the stage gracefully (because everything he does is graceful); the next, there's a _bang,_ and he's lying face-down on the floor.

Screams. There are so many screams piercing through the fog of her numb mind. There's another _bang, _but she can't see if anyone was hit this time _(please, God, let everyone be all right)_.

Down. She has to get down. If _they _see her they might . . .

But there's still a big part of her that wants to stand up; that wants to be seen, because it just isn't fair that she's safe up here when they're all down there, exposed and in danger. Someone's hurting her friends, the only people who accept her for who she is, and she wants to walk right up to them and tear their fucking eyes out.

But when two more shots ring out, she finds herself ducking under the chair in front of her. When she starts to scream, she covers her hand with her mouth. She just isn't brave enough to do something, and it's killing her inside.

And then it stops. All the screams from before, the gunshots – they all stop. She pulls herself up off the ground, not caring if _they _see her anymore. She has to see. She has to! These are the people she loves. Even that damn Berry and freakin' Zises.

As soon as she sees it, she wishes she hadn't. She wishes that she hadn't stood up; that she hadn't come to school this morning; that she hadn't joined glee club in the first place. She wants to crawl somewhere dark and warm and never come out. She wants to scream and cry and vomit all at once.

She starts walking, but it's like her body's on autopilot, moving of its own free will.

The first one she comes to is Kurt. Part of her is glad he landed on his front; that way she doesn't have to see his eyes, empty of everything that made him _Kurt. _The other part wants to turn him over and memorize every detail, because she knows it's unlikely that she'll ever see his _(babyish, sweet, adorable) _face again.

She climbs onto the stage, her body still working by itself. She doesn't want to look at the bodies spread out everywhere. She doesn't want this to be the last memory she has of her friends.

She shrieks when she steps on something that snaps, before realising that it's just Artie's glasses; Artie who's slumped down in his chair, dripping blood onto the floor.

She hears a noise. A moan. This is what makes her heart speed up even more. A moan means breathing, a heartbeat. It means life! She spins around, her eyes searching for the source of that beautiful sound.

And then she sees her. Brittany is propped up against the back wall, limp as a rag doll, her red shirt soaked with darker red. Her wide eyes meet Santana's, then drift downwards.

Santana hurtles across the stage, slipping on the blood-covered floor, before reaching Britt and gathering her up in her arms.

She knows it's too late as soon as she sees the blood coming out of Brittany's mouth. She pulls Britt to her, cradling her blonde head against her chest, and it's then that Santana Lopez begins to cry.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Santana was going to ask Brittany to dance after being crowned Prom Queen, and she was going to kiss her while everyone watched. They were going to graduate together, and go to college together. They would stay together while Santana worked on her medical degree and Britt did a course in veterinary nursing. They would get married and have kids and grow old together . . .

Brittany dies wrapped in Santana's arms and sweater. She holds her when her eyes close and her breathing stops.

When she's sure Britt's gone, she lays her down as gently as if she were handling a new-born, making sure the sweater is wrapped around her tightly. Santana's chest feels wet, and when she looks down, she sees the blood soaking obscenely through her white T-shirt, covering the bold, black lettering.

She screams.

She screams for Brittany; she screams for her friends and the pain some _fucker _decided they could put them through; she screams for herself and the knowledge that the people she loves and the person she's _in love with _are gone forever.

She screams until her throat's raw and her eyes are streaming and she feels like her lungs are about to burst. She keeps screaming when she feels arms around her, pulling her off the floor and carrying her outside. She doesn't stop until the guy in the ambulance jabs something into her arm and the whole world goes black.


End file.
